Where There is Darkness
by Red R
Summary: A gun is a timeless statement of a man's history. Leaving a legacy for a weapon now viewed to be the fastest cannon in the system, there is a man who owns the real weapon. Following Shin Malphur and his encounters with alleged evil, what happens when he finds light where there is darkness?
1. Where There is Darkness

There is also light.

The dark is only an absence of light.

I'm not the greatest of guardians, but I can assure you that nothing is infinitely dark. And no one wants to be the bad guy.

All the darkness we see . . . it can't be their fault. I mean, partially. They are called the "Fallen" for a reason. I've wondered this before, though. When I wasn't standing here.

When I wasn't looking at her..

She stared at me with those blue, glowing eyes. The mask thing was back. Kind of looked better with it, but I would prefer that she didn't wear it. Not like she had any use for it anymore.

I'd done a lot of killing, if you'd like to say. Not sure how much I would've said these things are alive enough to be killed, but I've been proven wrong.

You're probably wondering who I am, I'd guess?

Well, only the most renown and hated Hunter . . . if you go by Crucible standards. Everyone has cheap knockoffs of my gun, but this is the real deal. The actual machine. Of course, it wasn't always mine. I, uh, found it. The grimoire is wrong.

Not really, but it really is mine now.

Anywho, who is "she?" The good ol' gal of mine that I keep referencing to. Well, there's a lot of things to say about that.

Fallen. That's what she is. Well, twice, at least.

It's weird to think it was possible, but it has happened. Kinda' wish it didn't, but I'll fix it. I've killed way too many of these guys to not fix this. Not this time.

Maybe you hate complicated stories and want me to just give you straight answers. But why would I do that? You're here now, so how about you let me tell you where this all started from. I'm sure you'd like it.

Now then.

Let me teach you about a light in the dark.


	2. The Final Term

Originally, I never wanted this thing.

It belonged to the man I once referred to as my father. He wasn't really . . . but he sure acted like it.

I followed him everywhere. Through the village, through the woods, through the fields . . . through the path where he was killed.

He was the most of a dad I really had. My real father left, and my adoptive never cared for me. But him . . . he loved me.

Jaren Ward.

And when he died, the weapon that was originally his became mine. It was gold and black, with a nice heft to it and well-fit grip. On the barrel, it had the words "Tex Machina" inscribed in gold.

Fastest gun in the system, for all I know. Surely still is.

. . .

I can still remember that evening.

The exchange of shots—with one yin sound firing after the yang—was all I heard while he left me behind. I wanted to run in, but he taught me better than that. But thirty minutes later, his ghost came to me. It scanned me with its one, singular eye, before letting the silence mellow. It was the first time it spoke to me.

"Jaren is dead," it told me.

I didn't believe him.

So I ran through the woods—all the way to where the gunfight was. There lie his body, with the weapon firmly held in-hand. In his chest, there was a crude spike planted in deep. It fed off the light left in him.

"Voice playback, initiated," his ghost booted.

I tearfully listened.

"Hey, ghost?"

"Ward."

"This guy . . . I'm not too confident in what'll go down."

"Yes?"

"The boy, ghost. If I somehow die . . . him."

"What do you mean."

"I want you to give him my gun. Make sure he has it. It's his. And you . . . become his. The light in him is loud. Bumbling. Bustling."

"Do you believe you'll die?"

"No. I'm just not confident."

"Understood."

The next days were rough. Or, more like years. But I remember _him_. The darkest shadow I would ever know.

He towered over me that day I saw him. I was still young. Untrained. He could have killed me. But he was too twisted. He squinted and examined me, noticing Jaren's gun on my hip. He scoffed. Smiled. His wicked, evil grin is something that drove me to silently hunt him for the following years.

And only four years later, I had learned a lot. The sun timed in at about noon, and that man stood just paces away from myself. His gun hooked onto his hand as if he couldn't let go. My thumb brushed over the hammer of the cannon at my side.

"Been a while," he dared to speak.

I kept silent, remembering Jaren's lifeless form.

"The gunslinger's sword . . . his cannon," he spoke, nodding towards the iron clad on my hip. "That was a gift."

Could suppose that he would have taken it when he killed Jaren. But left it.

"An offering from me . . . to you."

My hands strained to the weapon.

". . . Nothing to say?" he asked, tilting his head lifelessly.

". . . I've been waiting for you. For this day. . . . Many times, I thought you'd faltered. Given up," he continued. I hadn't a word for him. My light attitude had been absent for the last five years.

He raised a hand waved it off gently.

"But here you are. . . . This truly is an end."

Before his sentence had found an end of its own, Jaren Ward's cannon flew up in my grip. My arm tensed as two beams of light burst through the muzzle. Both placed in his chest. He fell, not given the chance to react.

I walked up to the hollow body, staring down to it. The cannon burning with an intense flame of light, I levelled it with the creature's motionless head. The final respect I'd pay to the man I would call my father.

The words that followed flowed off my tongue in respective silkiness.

"Yours . . . not mine."

I holstered the gun. It was now mine. And my gun was the weapon to have that final term.

The Last Word.


	3. Shin

"Where do you want to go?" asked the guardian next to me. His tone was very human, yet had a mechanical ring in the backing of it.

"Ah, I dunno'. I'm thinking Imbrium," I replied.

His arc-filled, blue eyes lit up some and he laughed, mouthpiece moving like a slide on his blue face..

"That's a problem, because—well—I was planning on going there," he told.

I rolled my eyes, though my helmet covered that.

"Here, let's rock-paper-scissors for it. Winner gets to go to Imbrium. Deal?"

"All right, deal," I replied, moving my hand from my hip and holding it out ahead of myself.

We played our hands, and I came out with a rock, while he brought paper. I groaned and slunked in posture.

"And that, friend, means you're going to Cognitum. Bet there's going to be a lot of Hive there, too," he said, nodding.

My head rolled into the direction of the canyon—towards Mare Cognitum. I nodded a look to him, before setting my eyes back forward.

"Okay . . . so see you in half an hour?" he shortly asked.

"Mhm. Be right here in a half, Cayde."

"No promises."

"We'll take it to the Crucible this time, if you really want to try that again."

He laughed, before bringing up his sparrow and speeding off.

And so I brought up my own, powering off into the canyon. Just like the rest of the moon, all that I really saw were rocks and dirt. There were still little colonies set up _everywhere,_ and of course, there were Fallen scattered about. They tried shooting at me, but their guns were too slow. It was in about five (minutes) that I reached the structure, which looked entirely abandoned. It was wide open, and void of any activity, but it had the symbols that a Hive structure would. So I started looking at the surroundings of it before I'd go in.

It wasn't until I heard a fusion charge of some weapon coiling up in the distance, before I jumped from my spot to the side. Right through where I was standing, a wire of arc energy zapped the ground. I looked back and there was a Fallen standing right on top of the canyon head.

Without a second's notice, it fired again. I sprint over to cover—faced to the big temple structure. It fired one more shot nearby where I sat, before it began to fire into the temple's open door. A good five or six rounds went in, which was way off from where I was. I questioned what the sniper was doing, until a good twenty or so thrall came running out of there.

I whipped out the Last Word and took a couple of them out before reloading. I threw a knife over, took out another bunch with my next rotation, before knifing the last one right there. My foot kicked into the ground and I heaved him in front of myself as arc energy cracked onto the creature's tough skin.

This Fallen was definitely a changeup from the norm.

Too far away to nip it with my cannon, I fell back into the structure and stood by the opening. Just as quickly as I was in there, however, a shock grenade tumbled right by my feet.

I dove off the ledge I stood on, thumping against the stone-hard flooring a good twenty feet below. My body hefted while I caught my breath, leaning onto my knees. But just my luck, I was knocked in the side against a wall.

A Hive knight loomed over me, slowly bringing its sword overhead. It crashed down, my time taken in rolling to the side. Violent and angry, it swung its weapon overhead once more. But just as soon as it had tried to kill me, its head burst into electricity. I stood myself up, hand against the wall. Right up where I had been, that fallen had firmly stood, wire rifle charging again.

I was its prey, and its prey alone.

I ducked and the last of its wire rifle rounds ricocheted around me. I began running back for some kind of cover, catching a glimpse of it tossing the rifle to the side.

I slid into a nice and wide spot, though I was stuck on my knees. Whoever this Fallen was, they were a big mix up from the rest.

Footsteps sounded in front of where my cover, causing me to move out cannon-first and take aim. But to my surprise, the area was empty. Rustling to the side brought my attention to up against the wall, where several bolts of arc energy fired off towards me. I shuffled out of the way, following up with a round to where the Fallen hunter was.

My bullet missed.

Surprising me, it had jumped down right in front of me. With the four of its arms—and a pistol held by each one—it unloaded right in my direction. I barreled back against cover as a few skimmed my armor, punching a couple burn marks into my cloak. I cycled my weapon, before peaking and placing a shot. This one also failed to hit, the Fallen circling around in front of me.

A click from each firearm sent arc energy right at me, which I tumbled under in a roll to avoid. Before I found myself able to get back to a stand, its form towered over my own. Each gun pointed toward me, before its attention was sidetracked by a thrall—which leapt onto it. The two creatures fell into a scuffle on the floor.

Able to regain posture, I stood myself upright and pointed my gun at the Fallen's head. It didn't notice me, too busy with the single thrall attacking it. I stared, watching them. My finger was resisting. I had some mind not to kill it.

And thus, a round went off, followed by another. The muzzle of my cannon was escaped by smoke, my attention set forward.

The thrall fell off, limp, before the Fallen creature quickly stood itself up, gleaming those gross, blue eyes right in my direction.

Though hesitant, it snapped all four of its pistols right toward me. It was followed by nothing, however, intensely staring at me.

For the five second silence that was there, it felt odd. It had missed the beat on trying to kill me. Maybe a grace period sorta' thing? I still don't know.

Snaps of its arc pistols went off, however, down the staircase that descended further into the building. I had lost half my senses as screams of thralls echoed in my ringing ears.

The Last Word was then aimed down at the thralls, my spare hand fanning its hammer after each cycle, removing the numbers of thrall. A rain of arc bullets did much more than I had, however, burning holes into each Hive and following to the next. In a tense set of seconds, a hefty pile of thralls covered the descending stairs. What I imagined to be an infinite flow of mindless zombies had been reduced to nothing.

I huffed, easily exhausted.

Just as soon as I had relaxed, however, the Fallen let its pistols clunk to the ground. I looked to it, before it withdrew a pair of blades—lit with arc energy. I was somewhat optimistic to believe it might quit.

It charged me with a thrusting stab, which I moved out of the way for. It swept up, but I ducked under this all the same. As it moved for another swipe, I slid my gun into its holster, before taking hold of the Fallen's wrist. I twisted it downward, slipping my hand into the grip of its sword and throwing it far off to the side.

Its weird, lit-up eyes were locked onto me—unchanging. Another slash was thrown, which I moved out of the way for. A stab came down onto me, allowing me to lock an arm around its own and use my hand to rip the weapon from its grip. The blade clanked against the floor as my wrist twisted and my cannon was drawn right back up.

I muzzled the Fallen's face, taking a stance. It stared at me fiercely, but patiently. There, what felt like a standoff kept for a moment.

"I'd stick to sniping than close-quarters if I were you," I told, condescending with a joking tone.

"Jusst do it."

It spoke English.

Its voice had a hoarse sandpaper texture to it . . . but it actually spoke understandably. Better than the Vandal in the Reef. On top of it all, her voice was feminine. Rare for a female Fallen, if I could imagine.

". . . You actually know how to speak?" I asked.

"Don't wasste my time," it continued, commanding.

I lowered my gaze, finger firmly held to the trigger of my gun. I kept it trailed, and it—well, I guess it was a she—kept just as still. Accepting.

A twist of my arm and the pull of a trigger, I let the cylinder cycle once, before I locked the magazine out to the size and put a new one in. In the same moment, there was a cry from the creature, before it fell to the ground.

Just behind the Fallen now lied a dead thrall. I stepped back from the Vandal, eyeing her over some, just to follow in holstering my weapon. Maybe naive, but there wasn't much that she could do besides pick up those swords again. I didn't think she would, though.

Thus, I was behind schedule. Must've been an hour, as I began walking away from the Vandal with my back turned. I walked up the stairs and around, about to leave. Before I was about to leave, though, her voice beckoned me from behind.

"I have killed many guardianss," she shouted, causing me to stop and grip my side. I looked over the ledge and eyed a bit, staring.

"What is your name?" she asked.

I had half the mind to dome her right now. My stance held firm.

". . . Shin Malphur."

I walked away after that.


	4. For What Reason

_Why did I do that?_

Cayde reprimanded me with his higher-ground of the argument—that being me returning half an hour late. He joked about it, mocking me with my statement of going to the Crucible, before telling me all about what he found.

 _For what reason?_

"Ah . . . well, hm . . . there was a lot back at the structure I went to. I mean _a lot_ of Hive—that is. Oh, yeah! There was this one Fallen Vandal," Cayde told, catching my attention at the mention of a Fallen.

 _Why didn't I just kill her?_

"There wasn't much at the place, but . . . anyway, it goes like this," he began to tell, trailing off into a story. I half listened to him, but was more caught up in my own thoughts. He wouldn't notice, as we were in each of our own separate ships, talking over the coms as we headed back to the city.

 _She's probably killed many other guardians . . . like she said._

Cayde continued to talk on, though my attention went back to dozing off. My chair leaned further back, and I rested my hands on my stomach.

 _With aim like that, she'll probably kill more, too._

I huffed, before Cayde stopped talking in the middle of his story and asked, "Oh, am I boring you, Shin? C'mon, it's not every day that you find a Fallen as friendly as she was."

"No, Cayde, I'm just . . . sorta' conflicted," I assured, mellow in tone.

"Mm . . . okay, well . . . I'm gonna' let you deal with that. See you in the tower . . .?"

"Yeah, later."

"All right, see you around," he quickly faired, before silence returned.

What I had left were my thoughts. And they were telling me that I did something wrong. Yet, it was my feelings that screamed something . . . that there was something deeper than that.

That Fallen wasn't just some mongrel monster sort of . . . non-human thing. It _felt_ like it was alive. Maybe it didn't fear dying, but there had to be some sense of understanding behind its actions.

I thought about whether or not the rest were like that.

I shook my head. All Fallen do is kill anything innocent on this planet. They murdered 90% of the Golden Age population, so it's safe to say that they're all murderers.

At least most.

I brought myself back up in my seat and shifted the lever to my side, before taking hold of the ship's wheel and turning course.

Barely mentionable, my ghost rose up from its docking position and looked to me.

"Where are you going?" he asked with his deep, monotone voice. He has never really talked to me—I figure he was more talkative with Jaren.

"Orleans," I shortly replied.

". . . It has been a while since we have gone there," the ghost told, looking down with that eye of his.

Palamon would've been my choice, but Orleans was at least somewhat still intact.

My ship made the ride fast, flying into the ruins of what once was a big city. Back in the Golden Age. It was always like this, however—and it wasn't what I was flying to. The small mile-by-mile wide section that was walled off from the rest was where I was going. Before Palamon . . . that was where I lived.

Now it was a colony for the Fallen.

My ship landed in the middle of the road, before I ported myself out from the ship. My feet graced the dusty ground, and I looked about. It was empty, just as I'd remembered from my last trip. Scarcely would you find a Vandal or Dreg in these parts.

To my side was a little, white house. Its walls were long-since dusted over and dirty with the ruin and ash of Orleans. There were holes in its structures. I remember when they were put there.

I stepped up to the door and hefted a breath, before opening the house and letting myself in. It was dustier than last I visited, but otherwise, nothing has changed. There were still two torn sofas in the livingroom. The kitchen table was still broken down the middle. The bathroom's glass was shattered. And my bed had stayed neatly made.

The sun had begun to set as I sat myself onto the bed, undoing my helmet and setting it to the side. I took off my chestpiece, following my legs and arms. I hung the cloak on the corner of a door, before slipping my feet under the covers of my bed and wriggling down. My head sunk into the aging pillow underneath, and I let a finger trail around the entry point of a bullet hole. Comfy.

I figure this is what it was like to live in the golden age. Before the darkness came. When the Traveler was alive. At the peak of humanity.

Must've been a comfy life.

"Ghost, wake me up if any Fallen get near," I spoke, closing my eyes with a yawn.

I felt myself relaxing, letting my muscles loosen and my body stretch out comfortably. It was always like this when I'd come here. If there's one thing I'd never forget about this place, it's the smell. Probably wasn't even a good life compared to the Golden Age's, but it felt perfect for what I know.

I fell asleep.

. . .

Rays of orange sunlight were just breaking through the holes in the walls and broken glass when I heard the call of a voice. I groaned, sitting myself up and looking around tiredly. As I woke up some, it became apparent that the voice was coming from my helmet. And thus, I picked it up and put it on.

"—Malphur? You there, buddy?"

"Y— . . . yeah, I'm here," I rushedly spoke back, tired.

"Sleep in a bit?" I was asked, identifying the voice as Cayde's.

I stood up and stretched, reaching for my armor.

"I— . . . I guess."

"It's two o'clock—and definitely no day to be slacking," he continued, audibly shifting his attention.

"Yeah—yeah . . . sorry," I replied, looking outside to see that the sun was just rising. I forget that times are different across the world.

Cayde laughed some, and I could tell he was shaking his head. He mumbled some things to himself, before his attention was caught.

"Anyway, oversleeper, I have a mission for you—seems like something you'd be best fit to do," he told.

"Ah, all right. What is it?" I asked, fitting on the last piece of my armor, before walking out of the room.

"Okay, okay . . . so . . . there's a high-profile target that we have for you."

I stepped out of the run-down home, fastening my cloak to my neck and resting the hood overtop my helmet. My ship was right where I left it, with an orange glow reflecting off its smooth-finish surface.

"Yeah, there've been a lot of guardian KIAs recently, and we believe a good amount of them have been coming from some Fallen," he told.

The statement lingered in my mind for the moment.

I beamed back into the ship, right onto my seat. My rear settled back and I leaned forward, changing the controls some and prepping the engine.

"And you want me to go stop them?" I asked.

"Believe it or not, it's not a 'them' this time. Just one."

I locked up in place for a moment. It was her.

"We believe it might be rogue, but it's definitely nothing like the average dreg."

I sighed, slumping into my seat and letting my helmet clunk back. "That's pretty coincidental," I mumbled.

"What'd'ya mean by that?"

"Nothing, just . . . where am I going?" I questioned, still drowsy in tone.

My hands felt for the steering, before I pulled up on it and my ship lifted from the ground. It tilted to the side a bit while continuously lifting upward.

"Okay, so . . . you're gonna' be going to a city in Continent 3."

I stopped moving the ship and my eyes fell to the ship's display.

" _Orleans_ ," Cayde finalized.

". . . What?"

From that moment, an explosion blew out the engines and tore my ship in half. I was rocked in my seat against the dashboard, before scuffling to get a grip back onto the controls. Red lights blared as the ship began to spin from my control, spiraling downward. I desperately pulled on the lever to bring the ship off its tilt, but the machine locked up.

Last I saw was the visor of the ship hitting the ground.


End file.
